All the World's a Stage
by Aaeth
Summary: Sam reflects... no, broods on events from episode 5.08. No Wincest.


Title: All the World's a Stage  
Author: Aaeth Payne  
Rating: PG  
Genre and/or Pairing: none  
Spoilers: Up to 5.08  
Warnings: none. Unbetaed* See notes below.  
Summary: Sam reflects on the events in "Changing Channels".

Sam stared out the side window of the Impala, lips thinning in ever growing annoyance. He knew it shouldn't bother him. He knew that to get to him was the point. But damn it. It just wasn't fair.

Dean would probably be the first one to jump in with something inspiring like, 'life isn't fair, Sam'. No, he'd use 'Sammy' like he did whenever he felt Sam was being particularly childish. Or like he did whenever he was scared for one or both of their lives. But Dean was driving away from this particular cluster fuck, fingers tapping to the classic rock loved, so he wasn't saying anything.

But it wasn't fair at all. Why should he have to do _that_? Isn't everything he does painful or mortifying enough without it becoming fodder for some asshole angel's amusement? Sam clenched a fist and tapped it against his knee. It would have been nice to take some time rearranging the angel's features, but he'd been in the fire, and while an angel crossing the line had a known result, who knew how that would effect someone with demon blood in them. And really the Trickster, no, the angel was GABRIEL. So as satisfying as it may have been to break the weasel's nose, if Cas came away from it all bloody and beaten zapped to god knows where, then he probably wouldn't have gotten within three feet of his goal.

He noticed they'd pulled into the parking lot of some random low end motel. As much as Sam wanted miles and miles between them and Gabriel, they probably should get some rest. Acting takes a lot out of a person.

It was just another shitty hotel with standard ugly wallpaper and furniture. Sam fell onto the bed, face first. For once not caring about whatever diseases may be on the comforter. Hell, he already had genital herpes, how much worse could it get?

"So, you gonna tell me what has your panties in a twist, or am I gonna have to guess?" Sam cracked open an eye and glared as best he could at Dean who sprawled on the other bed.

"It's..." For an insane moment, he considered telling Dean what was eating at him, but then he realized Dean would never ever let him live it down. "Nothing." Better to just suck it up.

"Right." Where Sam likened sarcasm to a scalpel or razor, a precision cutting tool, Dean used sarcasm like a blunt instrument. "So that is why you've been a moody little bitch since we left the angel stewing in his own family angst. Maybe you should have been in a Motrin commercial instead of Herpexia."

He couldn't help it. He twitched.

Of course Dean noticed the involuntary flinch; his laugh filled the room. In another circumstance, Sam would have been happy to make Dean laugh, he certainly didn't do that much lately, but not about this. "Sammy, are you embarrassed to have a social disease?" Dean adopted his commercial voice, "Because about fifteen percent of Americans ages eighteen to forty-nine are infected with HPV." Sam wondered if he would be even more damned if he killed the man that was supposed to save the world. He gave up considering the fall out; Castiel would smite him, even if no one else did.

"Dean, shut it." Sam slowly rolled onto his side. "It's not like you aren't incubating God knows how many infections." He sat up, that did make him feel a little better. Really, it must have just been luck of the draw. And Gabriel would have known how much it would bother Sam to do the commercial. Dean wouldn't have cared. He could just picture Dean giving the lines with gusto, grinning unrepentantly the whole time.

Dean smirked, "Actually, I hate to break it to you Sammy, but I am bug free." He threw his arms wide. "Don't you remember? Totally rehymenated." Sam could have hit himself because of course his brother would have been remade minus any imperfections. But then his older brother's smirk just got wider. "But to be honest, I was HPV free even before Cas gave me a tune-up."

Sam leveled a completely disbelieving glare on Dean. It seemed to have no effect. "You're kidding."

"'Fraid not, Sam. Ever since dad handed me my first box of condoms and told me not to be a moron." Dean's expression sobered, "No glove, no love, Sammy."

Sam fell back onto his bed. He gave up. He just did.

*****

Comments & Criticism would be awesome! *Also: Notice this was unbetaed? Unbetaed fics make kittens cry. My usual beta is having internet issues that may linger. We are unsure they may last. Would you be interested in the wild, underpaid world of being a harsh task master/grammar nazi? If so, send me a PM and we can work out details. =)


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